


I Slept With My Uncle On My Wedding Night

by Bayyvon



Category: First Holy Cummunion and Other Obscene Sacraments (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Uncle - Nicole Dollanganger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23102893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: I will always come to youWhen I'm weak and emptyWith my wedding night bluesWhen I need you to fill meLike you do
Relationships: Emilein Tiefer/Jehan Prêtre
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. {One}

He's in the middle of making the boy _the twink the poor inexperienced **child**_ beneath him moan sweetly, buried to the hilt in his warm wet heat when the sound of car tires rearranging the gravel as it pulls into the driveway makes him pause.

_Now who in the sweet hell would be here at this fuckin' hour?_

The little redhead wriggles under his weight, and he decides that whoever the fuck it is can wait just a few minutes more as he resumes his brutal pace---

A knock. And then another, and another, growing in intensity the longer the goddamn cock-blocking son'sa bitch waited.

"Yer fuckin' kiddin' me," Tiefer groans, pulling out of the boy _Kevin? Carlos? whateverthefuck his name is_ and throws his briefs back on, now more than thoroughly annoyed at whoever this little pissant was. _Friday fuckin' night, can't a man get his cock wet without some kind'sa bullshit gettin' in the way?_

What he doesn't expect is the boy standing in the downpour on his porch. He's turned to go, apparently having given up on an answer, but the creak of the screen door makes his head turn.

"Jehan," It comes out a lot more surprised than Tiefer would have liked. But it's out there now, and it makes Jehan wave two fingers at him, clumsy and awkward and there's the boy he remembers, not the stranger his godson had become.

"Hey," is all he says, before he clears his throat, and tries again. "Can I c'min?"

Emilien hesitates. The boy is his bed---

"Lemme put away the mutt, a'right?"

"Okay."

He makes his way back to his bedroom, to find the little redhead is in the shower, cleaning up. Good. You couldn't hear the ancient pipes groan from the living room. 

"Hey, dollface?" he calls into the steam. "I'll be back in a sec, wait for me?"

"Mhmmmm," 

Tiefer leads the now drenched Jehan into the living room, and offers the kid a towel. He politely declines, and in the light he now sees that _that's a tux, and a ring-- oh **christ on a fuckin' cracker---**_

The white lace and black calligraphy invitation still sat in pieces on his kitchen counter. 

"So," Tiefer begins, lighting up a smoke, watching Jehan from where he sat. "There a reason yer gettin' my couch wet?"

"You didn't come."

"And why d'ya think that is, hm?" He exhales the smoke through his nose.

When Jehan says nothing, Tiefer laughs. It's a dead, hollow thing.

"You knew exactly what I thought about this little... arrangement'a yer's. It was a stupid fuckin' idea."

“You could’ve called.” Jehan crosses his arms, looking more and more like the boy he knew every passing second. Indignant. Pushy. _Needy._

_“Hey, Patrick, are you coming ba—“_

The lithe little redhead flounces into the room, a towel around his waist, hair still dripping. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Jehan feels anger flare through him. His vision clouds with a red haze, and he digs his nails into his palms. (Mostly to keep himself from wrapping his hands around his godfather’s neck.)

“Who’s this?” The boy looks bewildered, no longer the sensual picture he had originally painted, and much more like the child he was. He couldn’t be any older than sixteen. 

“Get out.” Jehan steels his jaw, zeroing his gaze on Tiefer. 

“GO!” He barks, fury turning his blood to fire, itching to get his hands on the man who sat smugly before him, smoking and looking unbothered by the current situation. 

The boy emerges from the bedroom, dressed with his shoes in his hands, and silently dashes out the door and into the rain. Jehan waits until the headlights move outside and then disappear. 

He stands, and dives directly for Tiefer’s throat. 


	2. {Two}

The chair topples backwards, nearly cracking Tiefer’s head against the wall behind. Jehan almost wishes it had when the stunned expression parrain wore twisted into one of wicked determination. He jolts Jehan backwards, knee digging into his stomach as they disrupt the coffee table, bringing glass shattering down around them. It pierces the white material of the suit jacket, and he grimaces, knowing in the back of his mind that he would now have to purchase the fucking rental. 

This revelation makes him think of Adam, sprawled out in their bed, post-wedding-champagne-orgasm. 

He unlocks himself from Tiefer, throwing his elbow into the man’s face. It gives him the leverage he needs to free himself. He stands, posture defensive, hands raised slightly. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Tiefer roars, brushing glass from his stomach. 

“Me?” Jehan laughs, incredulous, nearly hysterical. “I’m not the one with a teenager in my bed, Em!”

“No, no. Of course not.” The older man grins wickedly, lips stretching widely across his teeth, baring every single one. “You were the teenager.” 

It’s a slap to the face, Jehan wears it in the way he stumbles back, features gone soft, it’s an expression Tiefer remembers well. He advances on him, cornering him with a firm grip on his throat. 

It gives him the chance to observe the boy up close. See the way that fear and lust spiderweb his gaze, flicking from eyes to hand, to mouth and flexing jaw, and back. 

Emilien blinks, sighing, and leaning further in. It had been far too long.

He tightens his grip, pressing his nose behind his ear and inhaling deeply. Revels in the way Jehan shivers as he presses their bodies together. They just barely skim lips. He loosens his grip and instead winds his fingers into his hair, tugging sharply. 

“Emilien,” The boy croaks, long neck exposed. “W-we can’t.” This is the first time Emilien notices that the boy isn’t as put together as he had originally seemed, buttons misplaced, and stiff linen undershirt rumpled, and creased. Like it had sat in a pile. 

“P’tit,” It comes out predatory and sharp. Em presses harder and hums, taking Jehan’s earlobe between his teeth and making him whine. “Why else would you’a come, hm?”

Jehan nods in defeat, letting out a sigh that sounds almost... relieved, that he wasn’t made to admit to it out loud. Interesting. 

“On your knees, chaton.” Tiefer guides him down, and Jehan inhales deeply against the already straining cock. The familiar smell of him is a fucked up way of coming home. But. He tried not to focus on that, just that he wanted to taste. 

“Fuck,” The sight is almost enough on it’s own, of his godson in white on his knees, mouthing at his cock through his briefs. “Open wide,” Tiefer uses his empty hand to free his cock, and the other to lock Jehan’s head in place as he slid into his waiting mouth. Those little doe eyes blinked up at him from around the hilt of his cock, not even flinching around it like he had the last time they had been like this. It made him shiver, and groan, repeatedly thrusting roughly into Jehan’s throat. The boy only moaned deeply as he withdrew, smirking up at him as best he could around a mouthful of cock. 

“I see you’ve become quite the cockwhore,” It’s more spoken thought than degrading remark, somehow managing to sound both delighted and disgusted.

Tiefer leads Jehan on his knees, by his hair to the bedroom and it wildly contrasts with the gentle kisses and bridal-style-carrying he’d experienced earlier in the evening. He’s hauled up over the edge of the bed by the nape of his shirt collar, face pressed into sheets that smell stale of sweat and sex. It reminds him of hotel sheets, almost. 

Emilien wastes no time in jerking the white slacks down his knees, hands greedily pulling apart his cheeks—- pleasantly surprised to find a sweet, heart shaped red jewel nestled between them. He chuckles darkly, lust dropping the sound an octave. It goes straight to Jehan’s cock, twitching between the mattress and his undershirt. He isn’t sure where he’d discarded his jacket, but is no longer concerned when Tiefer begins to tug softly on the plug. He feels his cheeks burn when the older man tuts, disappointed. 

“Nasty little thing, you are, hm’?” Two of his digits slide in to the knuckle with ease, and Jehan whines softly, hoping he wouldn’t—-

“And full’a hubby’s cum,” Tiefer tsks, “That won’t do.” He presses in another finger and curls them deeply, then withdraws, bringing them dripping in cum to the boy’s mouth. “Clean.”

Jehan groans as he sucks, lavishing his tongue along the webs of the older man’s fingers. 

Tiefer uses the saliva to coat his cock, and presses in easily. Jehan nearly sobs, hole already stretched and sensitive. 

He’s got the boy’s cock in a borderline painful grip, the other gripping bruise tight on his hip, pounding mercilessly into him. 

“This why you came to see me, hm?” Emilien hunches over him, pressing his face into the back of Jehan’s neck. “I’ve ruined it for you forever, haven’t I? No one’ll ever fill you quite like I can, isnt that right, cunt?”

Jehan nods, pitifully. Admits it, quietly. He loved Adam. More than he’d ever loved anyone, but. He was always left feeling a little....... _empty_ afterwards. What a number he’d done. 

Tiefer makes him cum nearly thrice before he’s done, retrieving the plug from where it had been discarded, and returning it where he’d found it. 

When Jehan is no longer soup-for-brains, he redresses, and leaves Emilien sitting naked and covered in traces of their evening with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a cat-that-got-the-canary call of _“G’night, p’tit.”_

He returns home to find Adam rolled into his side of the bed, spooning a pillow in his absence. When he slots himself where the pillow was, Adam hums happily. 

“How’d it go, love?”

He lovingly brushes his hands through Jehan’s hair when he feels the scrape of..... glass? “Why—“

“We broke the table.” Jehan laughs, the memory seeming much farther away now. 

“That good, huh?” Adam nuzzles deeply into him. “ _‘s_ ok, you don’t have to go again.”

Adam never notices that the bruises that bloom on his husband’s hips on the days following their ceremony are just a tad too long to match his hands. 

Jehan does not encounter Emilien, _that_ way again. He decides that knowing it scorns his godfather more seeing him live a content life is revenge enough.


End file.
